Pride and Pumpkins
by CorpseGrl
Summary: A light-hearted Halloween fic wherein Molly challenges Sherlock to a battle of blades and John can't help but look on as the detective gets in over his head. Part of a one-a-day writing challenge. No ship but friendship.
1. A Wager Made

_Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this are not my creation, all rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

October was, without a doubt, Molly Hooper's favorite month. The weather was the perfect mix of crisp air and bright sunshine. She loved wearing cozy sweaters, the feel of warm textures wrapping around her small frame. Not to mention the pleasant addition of spicy beverages to the menu boards of all the coffee shops in town. Her favorite was a tangy apple cider from the tiny cafe at the end of her street. And for a few brief weeks, her morbid sense of humor fit right in. Halloween was the perfect excuse to indulge in all the skeleton motif items that her friends and family had bestowed on her throughout the years. What else did you get for a girl who worked with dead bodies? Skull and crossbones jumpers, socks and jewelry of course. Wearing her favorite pair of silver skull studs and a comfortable grey jumper with a bat motif around collar and cuffs, she strolled to the grocer's to pick up the most important part of her holiday preparations, a large orange pumpkin.

Every year, the staff at Barts were encouraged to attend the Halloween costume party. Molly didn't really dress up much as she couldn't see herself in any of the skimpy get-ups that passed for women's costumes. But she was an active participant in the other part of the party, the pumpkin carving contest. For five years running she had won the contest owing to her incredible skills with a blade. Some would say that she had an unfair advantage because she got to practice her art every day, but really, it had been more her father's training that made her the expert squash sculptor. He had been a whittler, carving little wooden toys for her beside the fire every winter. She loved to watch his hands work. And when she had been old enough to be trusted with a pocket-knife of her own, he had taught her how to unleash the wooden figures trapped just beneath the surface. Transferring the skills to pumpkin carving was child's play.

With her pumpkin purchased, she headed into the lab to start her work day. Molly knew that it bent some of the rules to carve a pumpkin in the lab, but it was really the best place. She never worked on the pumpkin during her regular shift, preferring to come in early or stay later and she only used her own tools from home. The mess was contained to a single station nearest the sink so that there was no risk of seeds or slime ending up in an important culture. Honestly, the stuff that Sherlock got away with was much worse by comparison.

To extend her working time (some creations took more than 15 hours of carving), she kept her work-in-progress in one of the fridges, frequently next to some of the detective's own questionable projects. Most people didn't even notice it was there, covered with a drape, mistaking it for a cadaveric head and wanting to avoid that as much as possible. Some people, though, have an insatiable curiosity, and Sherlock's appetite for the strange was voracious. He and John hadn't been in the lab ten minutes before he started shouting her name.

"Molly! Why is there a large gourd in the cooler next to my specimens!" he bellowed across the room. He really didn't need to shout, but felt indignant that the pathologist would allow someone to store a pumpkin on his specimen shelf.

"Oh, that! It's, um, nothing. You've never said anything about it in the past. I didn't think you'd notice," she mumbled.

"I notice everything, you know that," he drawled, "Now speak up and explain why it's contaminating my experiments."

John rolled his eyes at the unnecessary, but typical, theatrics of his flatmate and friend.

"It's her lab, Sherlock, she can store what she wants in the fridge," John countered.

"What possible purpose could she have for a pumpkin though?" Sherlock spoke as if Molly wasn't even there.

Both doctors could sense he was going to try to deduce the rationale behind the fruit's occurrence in the lab. They exchanged glances and smiled. There was little chance of Sherlock figuring it out. Holidays were something he paid very little attention to. As a result, he would likely have deleted any information he ever had concerning Halloween and jack-o-lanterns unless it had to do with the statistics indicating an increase in bizarre murders this time of year. It seemed like serial killers and other depraved souls were inspired by the morose holiday. Molly decided to save them all some time.

"It's for the pumpkin carving contest. I enter every year," she explained. "During the annual Halloween party here at the hospital, staff vote on their favorite pumpkin with donations for the children's wing. The pumpkin with the most money wins a trophy. I know it's silly, but it's really fun."

"Last year's party was fun," John added, "You missed out, mate. Insisted on staying at the flat performing some research on ritual killers."

"I assure you ritual killers are far more interesting than a bunch of adults acting like children in frivolous costuming. Those sorts of parties only serve to increase the number of ill-fated inter-office liaisons," Sherlock quipped. "Pumpkin carving cannot be approved use of facilities, Dr. Hooper." He directed his gaze to her and smirked.

"Neither is half of what you do, Mr. Holmes," she replied sharply. "So unless you want all those dishes of yours discarded, you'll keep mum about my pumpkin." Molly's eyes flashed at him.

It was impressive and amusing for John to watch the silent staring match between the brooding detective and the typically meek pathologist. There were few things that Molly would challenge Sherlock on in such a manner, most of them having to do with his persistent abuse of the lab protocols. Now, here she was sticking up for her own desire to bend said rules. Strange things did happen this time of year.

"It's no concern of mine that you waste time on such a banal project," Sherlock huffed at last, "Honestly, what could there be to vote on amongst a group of grinning gourds." He pulled his lips into a ridiculously wide smile meant to mimic and malign the contest.

"Actually, they're pretty artistic," John cut in. "Folks put a lot of time and effort into pumpkin carving. Just look at these pictures." He pulled out his mobile and opened an email of pictures Mary had sent him of some of the most impressive carved pumpkins circulating on the internet.

"I seriously doubt that Molly will be carving up something that looks like _that_," Sherlock dismissed John, waving his hand at the small screen. Really, she was good with a scalpel, but it would take a great deal more than a y-incision to turn a pumpkin into one of those soggy sculptures.

"I'm better at it than you," Molly piped up, feeling emboldened by her earlier verbal jousting with Sherlock.

He scoffed, "Very unlikely."

She just couldn't keep her mouth shut, "I'd wager any pumpkin I carve will win more money at the contest than anything you could do, Sherlock."

Silence settled for a few moments while they all stared. Sherlock was initially incredulous that Molly had actually challenged him, then he took on a bemused expression, apparently considering the bet. Molly was a bit flustered, color blossoming on her cheeks, but her gaze remained steady, daring him to back down. John kept looking between the two of them, fearing for a moment he had stepped into an alternate universe. He was convinced of it when he heard Sherlock speak.

"What are the stakes?"

Now it was John who couldn't control his mouth, "Costumes. Winner decides on a costume that the loser is obligated to wear to the Yard's Halloween party the next night."

"Oh, I don't know…" Molly wavered, a real blush creeping up her face. The idea of Sherlock in costume caused some rather embarrassing images to flash across her mind temporarily. She really was hoping he couldn't read thoughts right now. It got worse when he smirked at her.

"Afraid you might lose?"

Relieved that he had assumed a different motivation for her embarrassment, she shook her head. "Not at all." She extended her hand, "Do we have a bet?"

"Agreed." Sherlock reached out his hand to hers. They shook on it and John smiled at what he had just witnessed. This was going to be great. He knew that Sherlock didn't stand a chance against the five-time Queen of Carving and he sincerely looked forward to whatever costume she picked out.

* * *

**NB: ****In the above scene, when Sherlock smiles like a jack-o-lantern, I imagine it to be like the grin he gives the smiley on his wall before he shoots it.**

**Even though I should be working on other stories (like _I'd Love to Know What He's Thinking_ - I promise I'm working on it), I decided to take advantage of the season for a little Sherlolly fluff. I blame it on the fact that Halloween has got to be Sherlock and Molly's favorite holiday, I mean look at them and what they both do for a living.**

**And I'm taking suggestions on what costumes Sherlock and Molly would choose for the other to wear. Keep in mind both are convinced they will win. Just PM me! As always, reviews are love. - CG**


	2. Costume Conversations

**AN: My thanks to MorbidbyDefault/MorbidMegz and PattyMarq for some of the costume suggestions mentioned in this part. I had planned for this to be a two-part story but really got bogged down in this scene. All will be revealed in the final part so please bear with me if this scene is a bit slow. - CG**

_Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this are not my creation, all rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

The next day, John was reconsidering his earlier interpretation of the challenge as entertaining. As they left the morgue, Sherlock instantly began researching pumpkin carving on his mobile. Apparently he found some basic information on what kind of pumpkins were best suited for carving and insisted they stop on the way back to Baker Street for supplies. A total of five pumpkins "of optimal size, shape and density" were purchased. Three of them still sat on the kitchen counter.

Sherlock took to pumpkin carving research with the same intensity he did everything. There were printed pages showing illustrations of various pumpkin designs all over the flat. A pre-packaged kit of carving instructions and tools had also been purchased, although the instructions had been discarded. He rapidly became frustrated with the flimsy tools of the kit and chose to improvise with his own vast assortment of odd knives and scrapers. Unfortunately, he didn't have any natural artistic ability, despite his talents with the violin. One vegetal victim already lay in a puddle of chunks and orange goo on the table. He was now experimenting on victim number two.

"Do you think you might be going a bit overboard?" John inquired.

"I refuse to lose," Sherlock huffed. "If children and Molly can do this, I can most certainly do better."

"You can't be better than everyone at everything," cautioned the doctor.

There was a flicker across the detective's face as a thought coalesced. John recognized that look, it meant he had figured out something critical, and waited patiently to see the result. Surely the man-child wasn't going to back down.

"You're right, John. I don't have to be better than everyone, I just have to be better than her."

"I will not have you sabotage her pumpkin!" John's voice rose and he pointed a finger at his friend, "That would be cheating, and as witness to the bet, I will not allow it."

"No, not cheating."

"And no spying either. I'm going to text her right now to keep her project under lock-and-key." He hastily typed out the message to Molly.

"That won't be necessary. I am sure she has already relocated her attempt to some other refrigerator. I simply don't need to attempt any of these overly complex designs." He went back to his papers, choosing a new style of carving. It wasn't overly fussy, but it appealed to him and would be fitting with his skill level. It would definitely trump whatever cheesy conventional design Molly would certainly have chosen.

Deep in the bowels of the hospital, Molly was hard at work on her design. She had done a lovely tiger last year but, wanting to wow both the crowd and Sherlock, she was going in a much more fantastical direction this time. When she received the text from John warning her about Sherlock's potential to try and cheat, she quickly responded.

_Thanks for the warning, but I'm already ahead of you. And, although I trust you, I don't trust him not to deduce it from you, so I'm not telling you where. It's best if you don't know. - Molly_

John chuckled softly to himself. As often as Sherlock glossed over the fact, Molly was clever and could give the detective a run for his money. He started to wonder what costume she had in mind for Sherlock. He had no doubts in his mind that she would win. Even if she didn't win the trophy again, she would certainly be able to best the novice currently up to his elbows in stringy orange slop in their kitchen. He texted her, hoping she would let him in on her plans.

_Any thoughts to what costume you'll make him wear? I have some suggestions. - JW_

It caught Molly off-guard when John started asking about what costumes she was considering. The thought of Sherlock in his regular suits made her heart rate increase, imagining him in a variety of costumes made her light-headed.

_No, I haven't. I don't want him to hate me forever. I was going to be kind, choose something he might at least tolerate. - Molly_

_You can't do that! It's a bet, it has to be embarrassing. C'mon, a bunny or Cupid! Gah, I'd love to see the look on the Yarder's faces to Sherlock in a loincloth. - JW_

Reading John's suggestion of a Cupid costume made Molly turn scarlet. Sherlock in basically nothing but his pants. _OH. Goodness_. She would likely die of embarrassment or from the murderous stares he would subject her too. No, that certainly wouldn't happen.

_OH NO! He'd never speak to me again! - Molly_

Molly spoke into the deserted lab around her, "He'll look wonderful no matter what he's wearing. I could have him match the costume I'm already planning on wearing, but then we'd look like a couple. Although, where's the harm in that?"

Back at 221B, John's bark of laughter distracted Sherlock and he looked up.

"I take it I was correct, Molly did not need your warning," he said with his usual cold detachment.

"Nope, seems she's already planning what to make you wear when she wins." John was still visualizing Sherlock in something utterly embarrassing. It was no secret the pathologist liked the man, she would certainly have fantasized about him in something skin tight or revealing. Maybe a superhero costume.

Sherlock scoffed, "She would be wise not to be so overly confident."

"What like you?" John's eyebrows raised, as he needled, "You're in over your head, mate."

"It am just getting a feel for the medium," Sherlock defended as his hand slipped on the smooth surface of the gourd and left a deep gouge. He hissed unpleasantly, that apparently wasn't part of the new design. Dropping that one in the bin, he headed for number three.

"Yeah, right," John snorted. "But say you did win, what costume do you have in mind to make her wear?" This was the perfect opportunity for John to see what kind of secret fantasies the detective might harbor for the pathologist. It was possible that the constant barbs the man tossed in Molly's direction, about her appearance and her boyfriends, were a bizarre form of flirting. Very childish, but for a man who clearly had issues acting his age, it wasn't beyond reason.

"Most anything would look better on Molly than the tired, shapeless jumpers she normally wears."

"So you are aware she is a full grown woman, with a figure to match?" John couldn't help indulging in a fantasy of his own, Molly Hooper in a french maid outfit like Mary had worn last year. He knew he really shouldn't, she was a friend, but the image was certainly alluring.

"Please try to control yourself. She isn't some doll to drool over." John's eyes grew wide with shock at being found out, but of course, Sherlock could practically read minds. Thankfully the man didn't look up to see the corresponding embarrassed blush rise on the doctor's face. "But yes, I have an idea."


	3. And the winner is

**_AN: Thanks for the support and suggestions everyone. I make specific shout-outs at the end. Enjoy! - CG_**

_Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this are not my creation, all rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended._

* * *

Two weeks later, the annual Barts Halloween party was underway and Molly was very confident in her pumpkin. All submissions were given a number so that voting was based solely on the carving, not favoritism. She wondered which of the other pumpkins was Sherlock's. Beside her entry there eleven others, four traditional jack-o-lanterns, three haunted houses (one of which, she admitted was very good), two cartoon characters (clearly store bought templates), a skull (also very good), and a pirate ship (not from a template, well done but no shading). None of them seemed like designs he would pick, although if his was the skull, he was close competition for her own work. The first twinge of anxiety rose to her mind. Molly headed off into the crowd to find John and Sherlock.

After his own assessment of the entries, Sherlock was sure he had the contest in hand. Although his entry wasn't overly creative, he was very certain that one of the cartoon characters must be Molly's. They were just fitting for her personality, childish and happy. He was somewhat impressed by what he considered the top three entries, a haunted house, a skull, and a very detailed dragon. The flickering glow of candlelight made the beast nearly come to life. It was astounding craftsmanship. He wouldn't be winning the whole contest, but that had never been his intention. He knew that his entry would beat the cartoon characters and that would be that. Sherlock was indulging in a self-satisfied smirk when he saw Molly weave through the crowd to where he and John stood.

"You appear to be a bit concerned, Molly," Sherlock spoke, his smirk growing to almost a smile.

"Not at all," she tried to sound more confident than she felt. Her fear wasn't of losing though, it was of how badly this whole thing could go. If he really despised her choice of attire for tomorrow night, then their whole friendship would dissolve. John also recognized the worry in Molly's expression but couldn't fathom why.

"Cheer up," he soothed, "Your's is definitely the best pumpkin. This git doesn't stand a chance." He shot her a winning smile and patted her arm.

"Thank you so much for your support, John," Sherlock grunted. "I thought friends stuck up for one another."

"They do, but Molly is also my friend, and she deserves to best you for once." Turning back to Molly he asked, "So did you ever decide on a costume for him. Please say it was one of the ones I suggested."

Molly giggled. John had been sending her suggested costumes for days, sometimes with pictures attached. They were all hilarious, but nothing she would ever dare suggest. Her favorite of John's suggestions had been a toga, reprising his trip to the palace wrapped in a sheet.

"Sorry, John, I just couldn't bring myself to be truly mean."

_'Why couldn't she?'_ Sherlock thought._ 'It's a bet, it should be somewhat embarrassing to me otherwise what is my motivation to try and succeed?'_ He briefly reconsidered what he was going to present as his costume idea, would it be considered mean? No, but it might change her opinion of him and how he interpreted their relationship to one another. But it would be worth the risk to see her in it.

"Can I take that to mean you chose some standard Halloween get-up then? Perhaps have me dress as a vampire?" There was a note of amusement in his voice, like he wouldn't really mind being dressed as Dracula. The image suited him.

She grinned cheekily, "You're making guesses, Sherlock, how very unlike you."

He huffed in response but before he could make any cutting remarks, John interrupted.

"The contest winners will be announced any minute now, I suppose it would be the right time to put all the cards on the table, so to speak. Let's start out with the pumpkins." He turned to Molly. He knew that the mediocre pirate ship was Sherlock's but he wasn't sure which of the top three was Molly's.

"Oh, you mean he didn't deduce which was mine?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "It's the dragon. I was inspired by an trailer for an upcoming movie I want to see. The dragon's voice just gave me shivers."

John treasured the look of shock and near horror that crossed Sherlock's face. The detective was suddenly aware that he had lost and badly. He paled slightly and swallowed hard trying to steady his voice before identifying his own entry. Molly didn't miss the sense of panic in his eyes either, and as much as she was thrilled by her impending victory, she still struggled with the impact this would have on their friendship. She held her breath when Sherlock spoke.

"As you know already, John, mine is the pirate ship." His face bore an almost pinched look, "so I think it is safe to conclude you have won our little competition, Miss Molly Hooper. The announcement will be a formality."

Her stomach felt unsettled by the cold tone Sherlock had used, in addition to using her full name. But before she could speak to say any apologies or to plead out of the bet, the emcee for the event came to a microphone and called the room to attention. She wished the announcer would hurry so she could get away from Sherlock as quickly as possible. When her name was finally called and she went toward the front, she thought of a plan to get out of the bet. Molly accepted her trophy and then slipped out of the crowd down to her basement office. She would just hide out and never mention costumes to Sherlock again.

The detective scanned the crowd looking for Molly. She had an unnerving talent to be practically invisible, even to his own piercing gaze. On more than one occasion she had caught him quite off guard with this skill. But she had never used her ability to actively avoid him. He grew frustrated by his inability to find her in the sea of hospital staff. No one disappeared without a trace. Sherlock stopped suddenly. _Of course._

He left John to enjoy the remainder of the party and made his way to the morgue and attached offices. Just as he had suspected, she was nervously tucked into her small office. He silently opened the door and took in the sight of her, wringing her hands and staring sadly at the tacky trophy in front of her. She let out a noisy sigh that bordered on a sob and Sherlock felt his chest constrict. This whole scene was far too similar to another holiday blunder. He cleared his throat noisily to alert her to his presence. Her head swirled around to face him and she let out a startled cry.

"Oh! Sherlock, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean...I mean, I did try to win...but I didn't want to...I mean…" She trailed off, burying her face in her hands.

"I am not sure why you are so upset," he said as he stepped into the room to stand beside her, leaning back against her desk and staring at the wall in front of them, "It is my pride that has taken a blow, and I imagine it will take another when I wear your costume tomorrow. But I accepted that when I accepted the bet."

"I know, I just didn't want you to hate me," she spoke through her fingers.

"Well I assure you I did not consider your feelings at all when I decided on your costume."

She smiled weakly and looked over at him, "Oh, and what did you have in mind?"

"I was going to request a pirate lass ensemble. Anything would be better than some cat ears and one of your questionable Halloween sweaters."

At this she laughed, "You really do have a thing for pirates, huh?"

"Yes, and if it helps, I was going to dress to match," he confessed.

Molly's eyes grew wide, "Really?!"

"I will admit that normally the idea would be repulsive, but I found I wouldn't mind being seen in costume in public if I were with you."

"Well, I suppose maybe you won't be too upset to honor my choice of costume after all," Molly answered finally looking up at him.

"As long as it doesn't have to do with that horrible hat everyone keeps foisting on me," Sherlock sneered.

They shared a laugh and she told him what they would both be wearing to New Scotland Yard the next night.

* * *

Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade could only look on in surprised amusement at the scene before him. He had fully expected to see John Watson and his date, Mary, to come in costume. The couple were dressed as an American cowboy and cowgirl and Greg was a bit jealous of the doctor. Mary looked spectacular in her knee high denim skirt and white leather boots. He got a chuckle out of the fact that Anderson had come dressed as a cow and would very likely be the butt of many jokes from the couple throughout the night. The biggest surprise however was seeing Sherlock.

He had come in with John and Mary, presumably having shared a cab, and had instantly commanded attention in the room. No one had expected him to come in costume, and honestly, Greg wasn't sure that he had. True he wasn't wearing his usual suit and dress shirt, but he wasn't in a cheesy outfit either. He was wearing an impeccable tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and black bow-tie. He had even gone to effort to comb his typically unruly curls. There was no denying that Sherlock Holmes would have had a very successful career as a fashion model if he hadn't been so bloody brilliant and stuck on crime solving.

"You look like you're at the wrong party, Holmes," Greg said as Sherlock walked over.

"I lost a bet and this was the costume requested by the winner," Sherlock answered, giving nothing away.

"Would've thought John would go with something more ridiculous like rabbit ears," he joked. He could just picture Sherlock with a fluffy white tail.

"I assure you he did have other suggestions, but he was not the winner of the wager."

Before Greg could continue his questioning, another figure appeared. Dressed in a shimmering silver shift dress with layers of fringe stopping just at her knee, Molly Hooper appeared in the crowd. Her hair was swept up off her neck in a mess of large loose curls and a sequin covered headband sat across her forehead. A rich, but not overwhelming, rose lipstick set off her pale complexion perfectly. She was stunning. For the second time, Greg's impulse control was lost at the sight of her.

"Holy-"

"Control yourself, Inspector." Sherlock cut him off and waved Molly over to him. She giggled nervously and came to join them, speaking softly to Sherlock.

"Good evening, Mr. Gatsby."

"Evening, Daisy," Sherlock replied with a genuine smile and what Greg thought sounded like a convincing American accent. Molly laughed.

"Shall we?"

"Yes."

And with that Molly took Sherlock's arm and he escorted her into the party, leaving Greg with his mouth open and his head spinning. What kind of bet had Molly Hooper won to convince Sherlock Holmes to come to a party in costume as her _date_?! And to top it all, Sherlock didn't even seem bothered by it, he looked like he was actually happy. He needed to have a strong drink and a talk with John fast.

* * *

**NB: For reference pictures for their pumpkins, please see my tumblr page, my username there is corpse-grl. And to clarify, Molly is dressed as a 'flapper' most famously depicted in the novel and recent film "The Great Gatsby" which she and Sherlock reference in their interaction. The picture of Louise Brealey that inspired that decision can also be found on tumblr. **

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited and reviewed this story. I tried to incorporate as many of the suggestions as possible for both of their costumes. Hope it didn't disappoint! - CG**

**Morbidbydefault: A toga would have been great, reliving his trip to the palace.**

**PattyMarq: I tried very hard to incorporate the deerstalker, but Sherlock just sneered at me.**

**Anonymous: If Sherlock had won, pirate costumes would have been a certainty.**

**Crimson and Chrome 42: You think a lot like myself! One of my initial thoughts was Jessica and Roger Rabbit, but I just couldn't see Molly being that outgoing.**

**SammyKatz: Sadly, I haven't seen the newest Star Trek film so I wasn't confident enough to use Starfleet uniforms. But the thought was a good one.**


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